February 28, 2013 § 7 Comments

The bird can fly free
on his wings, but without a nest
where will he return to?



Guest Post : Ladywhispers.

February 27, 2013 § 1 Comment


Confession are scattered
As I probe more within
deciphering detest within
That mingles heaven and hell.

I rise from the inferno

Chained in tarnished spirits
Which recite an obscure tale
Hidden in impatient scares.Ponder over some broken pieces

Invalid seemed the judgement
That wrote the crackled fate
Heaved I still, for breaths taken.Cheated, ripped and stained

Revenge, some uttered, to me
I wondered if this will solve
For soul was bruised deep within.Naked truths ask my heart often

Why believed, when I spoke
I let out a shriek of pain
For moments precious I risked.Remember that face that mentored

Musings I sang with those eyes
Lips that move not, silence spoke
In darkness, sounds just whispered.Envisaged I never, the hold you had

You often lost in my tones, smiled
I was losing something very deep
Gaining a mate, possessor of soul.Some deadly sins were predicted

When you left to lands unknown
Still I became, like frozen moulds
Breaths and beats within, paused.Masks unveiled, false fittings

I still walk through the line
Where I often peek a sight
Of something never to find.
About the Lady:
She is a wonderful blogger and an even better human being. You can abandon my blog if you don’t fall in love with her. Undermines herself, and is very humble. Do read and follow her. Here.

Guest Post : KB.

February 26, 2013 § 4 Comments

Riots of Affectation: A Minor Play in Three More Minor Acts.

  (for Susan, lover of the absurd)


Act One

What color is the rain today, or did you not notice?
Things happen quickly now. In this age it is predicted
That paper birds will be perfected. Are you thinking
About statues? No? Well neither then was I.
I heard the sky had lost its memory though, and forgetting
What it was, lost its balance and fell to earth
Breaking into chards of disenchantment. You’ll know
When coerced opinions begin acting confused. Remember
They are only acting and will end misused. Like Lear
They will spiral down, down, down, exiled in time
To Bolivia, where despotism is understood.
Stand here by the window, I want to see the disguise
Your shadow wears when you leave the room.

My, what pretty eyes you have. It is such a shame
What you read in the light of understanding
Is sugar coated Baudelaire
In which things are not so evil as they seem.
I say worse
For wear, they are bringing in a new lexicon.
This language is so badly used, it’s a wonder we can speak
To anyone at all. But, now that I think of it,
I came in here for a reason. Oh! What is the color
Of the rain today, or haven’t you noticed yet?


Act Two

Yesterday in my apartment tower
I could have sworn all the doors were surly,
Slamming shut, or opening with no one
Knocking on or closing them. Sometimes
It’s enough to make a person use the windows
Though a little overly dramatic this high up.
I wonder what became of all the dreams
That Frank Lloyd had, though Levitt
Was certainly more practical, and anyone
Could get one. There’s a problem when
The same dream is had by everyone,
As bad as Wagner having written
A sixth undiscovered eight hour opera
For somewhere in the middle of the cycle
Of Der Ring des Nibelungen. Get a gun.



It is easy to believe; if you puncture night
It will bleed out and create a vacuum
Only light can fill. That illumination
Is the opposite of the dark is a Medieval
Point of view that does not hold a candle
To the proofs that occur now every day.
One might think that love has changed
To fit our age. But the only difference is
Now in my fantasies I can have you on a bed
Of magazines, subscribed to for just that purpose.


Act Three

Everyone who’s read the paper undermines the news:
Tuesday, for example, all the trains in France ran
Right on time, but in reverse making commuters
Disembark in places they had never been before.
Panicked women and children trampled hundreds
To be assured they’d gotten seated in the church,
But since the clocks were in sympathy with the rails
The conclave was much too early, god was still asleep.
It is sometimes wise to remind ourselves that a god
Awake, is a god who takes his wrath out on the poor.
It is a fact that wealth buys happiness and blessedness.
Non-believers please use the side doors when exiting.


Curtain Call

There are times that try the souls of men,
Perhaps the time has come to try a few heels,
Before they’ve a chance to put Humpty—Dumpty
Back together again.


About KB:

KB is a wonderful blogger I know from WordPress. One of my favorite followers, because his comments always make me ponder. His poetry is just as deep. You must follow his blog, here. Because you are going to love his works if you think I write “well”. 🙂

Guest Post : Soumya.

February 26, 2013 § 14 Comments


 A thickened smog spreads
visibility  ends,
should a ray of light
guide the world,
through the dense barricade.
darkened life,
horrific surroundings ,
humans cease to live
conscience within if  guides the way,
doomed is the future of the earth

Cannibals existed  in prehistoric times,
stone age showed the evolution sign,
centuries took to origin of species,
transforming and being phylogenetic,
the path suddenly seems reversed,
or is it lost in the shrouded cover,
every corner speaks of power,
chaos ruling minds of Bedlam.

where is the destination of this voyage,
the smothering dark cloud of rage and wrath suffocates,
shearing this impenetrable  isn’t easy,
who will be then taking the initiative?
generations will swipe away thus,
will anything be left called mankind ever?


About Soumya:

I know Soumya via WordPress. She writes amazing poetry in English and Hindi alike. As a person, she’s super cute. You can follow her blog here.

Guest Post : Irfan Khan.

February 25, 2013 § 10 Comments



















Okay so this post has no name. And I didn’t want to name it either because there are certain things words cannot do justice to. Hence, this. His photography.

About Irfan:

He is one of the most sensible persons i know, from real life. I rarely admit that, though. He’s nice, takes my case too often, and hates to love me. You can follow his blog here.

P.S. That reminds me, I wrote a poem for him long ago. Here, it is.

Guest Post : Ben Naga.

February 24, 2013 § 3 Comments

The Truth is Out There?

There was once a man who decided, in order to give structure and purpose to his life, that he would try to find himself. To this end he devoted the whole of his available time and energy. He read many books, attended courses and seminars of all kinds and traveled many miles to sit at the feet of great teachers and learned men. Eventually he grew old and died and ascended to heaven. Like every new arrival, he was called for an audience with God, who inquired of him whether he had been successful in his quest.

“Not really,” replied the man ruefully.

“Well,” said God, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you another shot. This time, see if you can work out who’s doing the looking.”

~Ben Naga.

About Ben:

Now, Ben is a very dear friend i know from WordPress. His words amaze me, and he likes amazing me that way, quite often. One of the few people i am blessed to meet. Do follow his blog here.


February 23, 2013 § 12 Comments

We’re always alone.

You in your world, I in mine

somewhere else

in a crowd, in a bed, in this darkness.


Sometimes we find company

from another lonely soul seeking love

in a crowd, in a bed, in this darkness.


Yes, a smile to a stranger can be love

you loved in your world, I loved in mine

in a crowd, in a bed, in this darkness.

Where Am I?

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